


In A Dead Land

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Human Sacrifice, Ritual Sex, Sex Magic, anthropomancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just another part of the job, another way she uses her body as a tool to get what she needs. Until it isn't anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Using the prompt <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/3266.html?thread=1273282#t1273282">Five times Natasha slept with Loki for the sake of a mission, and the one time she slept with him because she wanted to.</a> This got a bit darker than I expected, just to warn you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gaining Confidentiality

1.

She didn't like him. Oh, he was fascinating and powerful, and he had a certain charismatic charm, but that didn't affect her. She still had her objectivity.

Wizards had been found to sew his lips shut with enchanted threads, brand him with limitation spells, and carve his skin with ceremonial athames to further limit him. Loki had been bound and held captive for some time, kept in near constant isolation when not heavily interrogated. Now in SHIELD custody, Loki was starved for company and in pain, though he didn't want to show either truth. The angry red lines around his lips where the threads had been were still evident; Natasha wasn't sure what constituted mere punishment as opposed to torture in Asgard, but the Red Room had similar ideas on efficacious penalties.

Thor and Director Fury managed to broker a deal of sorts. Loki was needed as a consultant on Earth, but only with a heavy geas placed on his skills: Loki would never be able to cause harm by deed or inaction, could not knowingly lie or evade the truth, and it would tax even his manipulative skills to set in motion a plot to harm SHIELD in any way. He had activated the geas multiple times in the first week, striking out at potential handlers or shaping the beginnings of a spell with his fingers.

Each time, he'd required medical attention to be sure his seizures didn't cause further damage.

The geas had worked its way into his body and mind, holding his magic fast where it could do the least harm. It was never _no harm,_ Natasha had been quick to note. Asgard could not guarantee that. But SHIELD knew how to handle loose cannons, so Director Fury was willing to assume the risk. No other facility on Earth would have been able to hold him, even temporarily, and Fury was determined to avoid another Battle of New York. He felt that under his direct observation, Loki would likely do less damage. "He needs a leash," Fury had told Thor flatly, "and you're not willing to provide it." Thor had agreed, and felt that working with SHIELD would allow some kind of rehabilitation to proceed. In addition, Asgard didn't have to house someone actively looking to destroy it. All in all, it engendered goodwill between the two realms.

Held in a secure SHIELD facility, Loki looked odd in civilian clothing and with his hair long and wavy. Natasha preferred the slicked-back locks and maniacal grin, teeth bared and eyes crazed. Like this, he looked vulnerable.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Loki purred. Natasha supposed he wanted to unsettle her. She strode to a spot directly in front of him. Loki had only a cot, a small table and chair, and a sink and toilet. It looked more like the maximum security prison cell it was than a hotel room, but he behaved as though he had invited her.

She gave him an icy smile, unruffled by his tone. "The terms of the arrangement," she said, handing him the manila folder.

Loki took his time reaching for it. There was also not a single staple, paper clip or pen anywhere in the folder's contents. Natasha treated him as she would any Red Room combatant, knowing that if there was a way to cause lethal damage, he would think of it. His lips curled as he saw he had been given nothing but paper.

He scanned the pages quickly, brows furrowing in thought. It was a puzzle, and more stimulation than he had previously received. Natasha knew it would pique his interest, though Loki was quick to hide it. "This hardly counts as _real_ magic," he sneered at her, putting the folder aside with disdain. "That practitioner cannot even do basic spells."

"Perhaps," she replied with a shrug. "I'm no magician. All I see are burned out candle stubs, chalk marks on the ground, severed fingers and blood spatters. What is he doing with those components? What is he looking for?"

The grin Loki shot her was manic. "What else? Power."

Natasha leaned in close, her face a mere inch from his. "What is his target?"

"You ask as if I know what he wants."

"But you do, don't you? You understand what it's like to want." He was silent, lips pressed together. At her continued stare, he unconsciously licked the scars on his lips. She took no satisfaction from that response, pressing on, not even blinking to break their eye contact. "To _need_ attention, feeling frustrated all the while, not knowing how to get what you want, not knowing how to get the respect you deserve."

His hand shot out to close around her throat. He didn't squeeze, and Natasha didn't flinch at the contact. He stared at her for a long moment. "I do deserve it."

She raised her hand to his throat. Unlike Loki, she put pressure on his windpipe. Though he could still breathe easily, for a moment he couldn't draw in a breath. His eyes widened slightly, nostrils flaring in fear. "Respect is _earned._ Knowledge might be power, power might be power, but respect can only be earned."

The geas prevented Loki from tightening his own grip. "I could kill you, you foolish mortal," he rasped.

"You could try," she acknowledged. He needed to feel powerful in some way. He was a fallen god, and that made him all the more dangerous. Wounded narcissists were nasty, vicious creatures, often lashing out in order to obtain some kind of control. The difference with Loki was that he had some ability to do significant harm. Natasha let go of his throat and let her fingers trail down his chest. "Perhaps you'd best me, perhaps not. I don't think you would try for a fair fight."

Loki's laughter had a hysterical edge to it. "I was right. You're nothing."

"You're worse," Natasha replied. "You're pathetic. There's _nothing_ to you, not even shadows. Fury's wasting his time with you."

Furious, he tried to tighten his grip on her throat. The runes around his lips and throat flared, and he jerked back from her. Natasha didn't move as he collapsed to the floor, twitching and crying out in agony.

When he stopped thrashing about in pain, Natasha squatted beside him, concern on her face. "Do you need attention from medical?" He made a snarling sound, but couldn't move from the floor. Her lips curled into a sardonic smile. "I won't call in the medical team." He looked at her incredulously, wheezing. "It's too easy to pull your strings, you must realize that. Even you can see that. I wind you up, you react and forget the geas. I don't have to call medical. I can let you choke on your own tongue. Your life is in my hands."

Loki looked at her with a sneer. "You're mortal."

"At any time, I can kill you. There's nothing you can do about it."

Loki's lips quivered with impotent rage. She could tell that he still wanted to choke the life from her, charge her body with reckless magicks that would leave her insensate. But he could do none of that, and they both knew it.

The silence stretched out, but Natasha was used to it. Loki fidgeted a little, though it was clear he couldn't quite stand up yet. Taking a little pity on him, Natasha settled into a cross-legged position beside his prone body and asked "Where will this magician go?"

"There aren't places for that kind of power in this world," Loki murmured, seizing on the opportunity to speak. He reached for the folder, but missed and touched Natasha's knee instead. His lips parted slightly at the contact, as if his skin was sensitized after the geas had burned its way through his body.

"What places exist, then?" she asked, voice low and soothing. Natasha let her hand slide over his, her gaze unwavering. "Where will he go?"

Loki's expression didn't waver, and he didn't shrink from her touch. There was something like fear in his eyes that spoke to vulnerability. When she didn't press, he licked his lips. "Why should I help you?"

"I'm sure you don't enjoy the pain." His expression darkened as she spoke, and he didn't seem to notice that her hands slid down his arm, toward his shoulder. "I could take it away. I could reward you if you cooperate," she added, giving him a meaningful look. "Unless you'd rather I left?" she asked, eyebrow arched.

She could see that he wanted to turn her away. On the other hand, he was so dreadfully alone.

"What do you want?" Loki rasped, visibly perturbed that he was reduced to asking her such a thing.

"Information to locate the practitioner," Natasha replied, nails scratching the skin at the back of his neck lightly. He sucked in a breath. "We can negotiate terms if you need to."

If anything, that made him recoil, limbs still jerky and moving sluggishly. "I am a _god!"_

"You were," she said. "And now you're here with me." She paused and lifted her hand from his neck. "I can stop."

"No," Loki said quickly, voice small and desperate.

She didn't say anything in response, but kept eye contact. He reached up for her as she leaned in to help him up from the floor. She stroked his back and reached down toward his groin. His hand tightened as he sucked in another breath. Interesting, that the geas didn't affect that. He didn't notice, but she filed it away for later analysis.

"A place with herbs," Loki said finally, his voice harsh with need. "Spices to set the boundary of his spell, souls to power it. Somewhere dense with many lives, space enough to set the foundations." He let out a distressed groan, tilting his hips toward her hand. "Please," he ground out, teeth grit.

"What do you want?" she asked.

There was an almost desperate look in his eyes, which made him seem painfully fragile. "I want," he began, hoarse voice just shy of pitiful. When there was no censure in her expression, Loki licked his lips. "I want to fuck you," he ground out. To him, the isolation was possibly the cruelest torture.

Natasha withdrew her hands, leading him to protest in dismay until he realized she was shrugging out of her clothes. Loki openly gaped, so she lifted an eyebrow, asking what was taking him so long to get naked.

She laid down on the floor beside him, legs splayed for his view. Loki stared at her disbelievingly, then took off his clothes as well. His movements were slow, measured, waiting for a trap to spring. When Natasha didn't do anything more than beckon him closer, he approached her and ran his fingers along her the rise of her chest.

Loki entered her swiftly, without preparation, his motions jerky and awkward. His need overpowered any finesse he might have had. His hips snapped back and forth, and he bit his lower lip to keep from groaning. Eyes closed, he didn't even look at her sharp, calculating expression. When he spilled into her, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and nearly sobbed. His grip was tight enough to leave bruises, his wavy hair almost tickling her neck. She stroked his shoulders in a comforting way, until he calmed and was still again.

"He hates people," Loki told her, lips pressed to her shoulder. "I saw it in how he made the carvings in the candles, the gouges of chalk. The blood splashes should have been precise, but they weren't," he continued, syllables nearly tripping over each other. "The markings were abrupt, too deep. He made them in anger."

She had surmised as much, even without understanding the principles of magic. She didn't have to; she understood people, and it was a mortal who had cast the spell.

Natasha continued to stroke his back with one hand, fingers of her other hand combing through his hair. "And how do we stop him?"

"He'll look for something bigger, grander. A larger mark on the world. He'll need ancient texts, perhaps a vessel of power to serve as the conduit for the souls he plans to take."

"Is there a signature to look for?"

She could feel his smile against her skin. "Look for a riot. Fear."

He reveled in her touch, that muchwas clear. She said nothing for a long time, and he finally moved to clean himself off. He seemed to sense that the intimacy was over, that she had never let her guard down. She was all brisk efficiency, the master spy sent in to handle him. The knowledge must have burned; he couldn't meet her eyes.

Loki was startled when she grasped his hand tightly. Other than the marks on his mouth, she couldn't see further signs of scarring. Natasha quirked her lips into a slight smile. "Thank you."

He searched her expression, nodding formally when he saw no sign that she was making fun of him. "You're welcome."

Clint was waiting down the hall. Every line of his body was taut with tension, and he stared at Natasha with a gimlet eye. "Was it worth it?" he growled, no doubt angry that he couldn't simply put a specialty arrow through Loki's eye and be done with it.

"We'll find out soon enough if his intel is good," Natasha replied, ignoring his glower. She knew as well as he did what the stakes were, and having emotions cloud the issue would simply fuck up the mission.

"Fury shouldn't have agreed to this," Clint said, his voice clipped. She took note of his clenched fists and took hold of one hand in both of hers. It eased the tension in him, until he clasped her hand in return. He looked at the carefully blank expression that was her default mask within SHIELD headquarters. "You don't have to do this, Natasha. It doesn't have to be you."

"No one else here can control him."

"You actually think you can?"

Natasha rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand slowly, giving him a level look. "It's part of the job, isn't it? I'm willing to do anything and I play into expectations to get what I want."

Clint's jaw tightened. "This is _Loki."_

"I remember," she said, voice quiet and laced with pain. "I never forget." Her hand tightened painfully around his. "I can't."

He simply looked at her with an openly stricken expression. She reached up with one hand to touch his chest, right over his heart, and he nodded slowly and let his usual mask slip back into place. Much of what passed between them was unspoken, and this was no different. He would let her do what she needed to do, and he would swallow his complaints. For now.

They found the practitioner exactly where Loki had indicated he'd be two days later.

 

2.

Captain America didn't approve of her methods. He didn't have to; he only had to use the information Natasha gathered to formulate his plans. He didn't have to watch the video that would be kept on file to be analyzed later. With Clint backing off a bit, it seemed that Steve took it upon himself to try to protect Natasha. He let Fury know that he thought debasing Natasha was a terrible idea, and that this kind of manipulation put SHIELD on the same level as Loki himself. He tried to take on some of Natasha's caseload and offered to be Loki's handler, but Fury denied the requests. Steve checked in with Natasha, reassuring himself that Loki wasn't twisting her mind and that she wasn't distressed by the arrangement.

He wasn't aware of Red Room training tactics and theory; he was an idealist who wanted to believe in a higher purpose, and in some ways, he was still very innocent. She rather liked him that way, and found his protective instincts irritating and flattering at once. Natasha wasn't used to many people caring about her state of mind during missions.

Natasha kept her back to the camera she slithered over Loki on the bed, his cock erect in her fist. He buried his face between her breasts, panting with need. He clutched at her back, clearly frustrated when she wouldn't move from her position above him. He wanted more contact with her body than this, but that wasn't her intention at all. His dark hair tumbled down to his shoulders, making him look almost like a romance novel hero looking up at his heroine. 

"I would please you, make you cry out from my touch. It's what I should have done the last time. I would not have you think poorly of me."

No one else visited him. She had checked the logs.

Loki spilled over her fist, fingers spastically pulling at the back of her shirt. He whispered secrets into her skin, magic formulae that mortal minds could not hope to recreate without slaughtering themselves, metaphysical weapons of mass destruction. Natasha wound her fingers through his hair, feeling the silken strands as she stroked the back of his skull. He watched her lick her other hand clean dispassionately.

"You don't care, do you?" he asked, clearly trying to figure her out. Natasha wondered if it was appropriate to view his conspicuous weakness a ploy to manipulate her. "I could repay you a thousand times over."

"I'm sure you could."

"Doesn't it matter?" he asked. He reached out for her, then snatched his hand back at the last moment. 

If he couldn't understand her motives, he couldn't predict her. She wasn't as weak as he had initially thought on the helicarrier. It hadn't stopped the Hulk from wreaking havoc, but Loki wasn't used to being outmaneuvered. He needed to manipulate her, but he hadn't found the proper hook just yet. Natasha could give or withhold physical touch, and he didn't have his balance back yet. She had done it deliberately so far; Fury had told her to ensure that they held Loki's loyalty.

"No," Natasha said finally, her voice conveying no emotion as she moved away. It was a way to reinforce that the physical contact was hers to initiate, not his.

Loki kept his hands at his sides, expression calm as he walked to the single chair in the cell. There was tension in him, his breathing rapid, his movements almost jerky. His mind had to be whirring, trying to find something to do, something that wouldn't trigger the geas and would still be useful to him. He couldn't tolerate being brushed aside as if he didn't matter. He needed to be important in some way, in control.

She knew how that worked. Since this assignment began two weeks before, she had started thinking of the Red Room more and more. She remembered the frustration and helplessness, the ways she had to suppress her thoughts and desires to please the instructors. Now she was behaving the same way they had, and the knowledge sat uncomfortably beneath her skin. Did they revel in the power they had, breaking and rebuilding little girls? Natasha knew she was in control here, but it didn't give her any pleasure.

"What do you need, then, little spider? You visit with talk of infants' magic or weaponry, little else. What do _you_ get from this?"

"Information carries its own price," she told him.

Loki's gaze sharpened, and he seemed to coil in on himself slightly, a snake ready to strike. He was trying to bide his time, if her assumptions about him feigning weakness were correct. "Those mechanical monstrosities will decimate entire cities, even if they aren't truly fueled by the Tesseract. They still have power, they can still warp reality. However your scientists tracked the Tesseract before, it won't work now. Those things are different. I don't think they'll do you the favor of destroying themselves."

"No, HYDRA was never that accommodating," Natasha agreed.

"Will you meet them face to face?" he asked, eyebrow lifted. It didn't quite match his former levels of arrogance, but seemed to come closer than he had the last few visits.

Natasha moved to run her fingers through his hair again. "I like you better this way." He froze at the contact, staring at her with large eyes. "It suits you."

"It's beneath me," he told her, lip curling in derision. "I was a king. A _god._ Now you wish me to be common, a reminder of how low they keep me."

"Perhaps," Natasha allowed, her hand dropping from his shoulders. "But this situation is better than when you were sent to Asgard."

Loki caught her wrist. He pulled her close, watching her expression intently, searching for any sign of her actual emotion. "Could it be that you care?" he asked. "Is that why do you do this?" Her shifting alliances and appearances defied his understanding, and she was _mortal._

Natasha swiftly twisted out of his grasp, then turned to the side. Grabbing his arm with her left hand, she spun around and struck his back right between the shoulder blades with her right. The shove sent him forward, and she jerked her left arm to give him a spin as he fell. Loki had let out a cry of pain as he collided with the unforgiving concrete, and Natasha landed directly on top of him, pinning him to the floor. He looked her in silence; there was little leeway to maneuver, Natasha saw to that. She didn't press down too hard, just enough to serve as a reminder that she was the one in charge.

He gave her a calculating look. "You don't think well of me at all," he said softly. "Was it because I was a selfish boor last time?"

She loosened her clothing and positioned her crotch over his mouth. Her expression remained blank and emotionless as she looked toward the door of the cell rather than at Loki. "If you're so set on having me come, you'd better start."

Loki spread her wide and licked into her with abandon. As her breathing grew harsh, he slid a finger into her to stroke her from the inside out. Natasha was quiet, only her change in breathing and soft whines indicating what gave her pleasure. She collapsed forward as she came, landing abruptly on her hands, bright red hair falling to cover her face. Loki gently swiped his tongue across her clit, bringing her down from the high before sliding out from beneath her. She watched him lick his lips and fingers, sitting back on his haunches to watch her.

Natasha didn't say anything as she rearranged her clothing. Loki watched her very closely, as if waiting for a response. She rolled to her feet, catlike, and met his gaze head on. It had been a while since she slept with someone and actually came; her go-to fuck buddy was Clint, and they'd both been occupied with different missions since the Battle of New York.

"You are most curious," Loki said finally, when she gave no indication that she would talk. He licked his lips again, the pink tip of his tongue lingering over the healing scars across his mouth. "Quite the puzzle."

"Solving it will give you something to do when I'm not here," she said sweetly, which made him frown. Natasha wondered if she was really so confusing to him, or if he was planning out how to next attack her defenses. She didn't respond to physical contact the way he did, and he had no other weapons to work with. That didn't mean he didn't have any, but the situation was forcing him to be even more clever than he had been in the past. That likely didn't bode well for SHIELD if her way of handling him was incorrect, but in some respects she was the only one that would be able to do this. She didn't enjoy the thought of employing Red Room tactics to try to twist Loki to her will, but she only had to recall Clint's despair at being controlled and manipulated to reassure herself. He mattered more to her than her own discomfort.

"There is no Asgardian or Jotunn magic in this realm," Loki told her abruptly, brows still furrowed. "Your agency keeps me here under lock and key, yet you bare yourself to me. You have visited without asking about magic or the destruction it can cause. You can't enjoy my company, given our history."

"I don't," Natasha replied evenly.

Nonplussed, Loki searched her face. "Your masters' motivations are clear. Yours are not."

"As it should be."

"I may tire of this game, little spider," Loki warned, eyes flashing.

She merely raised an eyebrow at him. "You're out of choices, if you haven't noticed yet: I'm your handler." Not entirely true, but Agent Sitwell was smart enough to defer to her opinion in this matter. He wasn't as talented as Coulson, but he'd been heir apparent in handling difficult agents and assets. Natasha, Clint and now Loki certainly fell under that category.

Loki looked baffled by this news. "So you decide if I am useful."

"Your intel does," she corrected. "I have no emotional attachment."

"I find that hard to believe. Before, you would have done anything to save one man."

Natasha stared at him. "Do you truly believe any of that exchange was real?" she asked archly.

Loki's mouth snapped shut. "You're clever," he said finally. Still and calm, Natasha didn't react to the praise. "Are you manipulating truth into a lie, or lying outright? No," he murmured, eyeing her steadily. "The hawk is extraordinary to you. He matters, and he has your loyalty. SHIELD could burn for all you care, if he survives."

Natasha looked at him calmly before turning to leave his cell. "You can think what you like. We'll see how good your guesses are."

As she thought, Steve Rogers was waiting for her down the hall. "Those cracks about Clint... He's trying to get into your head, isn't he?" he asked sympathetically.

She shrugged. "It's what I would do in his place," she told him. "I know what to look for."

"You were very quiet," Steve observed; obviously he'd heard them having sex. "I'm sorry I listened in on that..."

"I have to assume _someone_ is watching the sessions."

Steve frowned at her flat tone. "But that was personal."

"No, it was part of the missions," Natasha corrected. "I was trained in _all_ methods of persuasion, and there are many who reveal more after release."

"You're very... polite about it all," he said.

"It's just sex. It's a bodily function, and Loki craves contact. That makes it a useful means to employ. Reward and punishment, so to speak."

"I'll take your word for it," Steve said, clearly uncomfortable with the notion of using her body as a tool.

"I've been at this game a long time," Natasha told him. "The last time Loki gave us information, it was useful. This should be, too. He wants more privileges, and in spite of himself, he's getting emotionally attached to me."

Steve laid a hand on her shoulder. "Just don't lose yourself in the process. We can't lose you, Natasha. You're important."

Natasha gave him a genuine smile. "Don't worry, you are, too."

That earned a smile in response. Even better, her words had been true.

As before, Loki's help was useful indeed.

 

3.

Natasha walked into Loki's cell less than a month later as if it was her office and sat down at the desk without asking, manila folder in hand. He sat on his cot, back against the concrete wall, dully watching her page through the folder. "What happened this time? You stopped visiting me simply to talk. Now you only arrive when there's work to be done."

She gave him an arch look. "Did you want more personal visits?"

"You mean the sex isn't personal?" he asked snidely. He didn't appear shocked when she didn't answer his question.

His long fingers plucked at the loose fabric of his pants. He was still in uniform gray but had started to fill out. In the first few weeks of his stay at SHIELD, he had refused to eat on principle. Now he ordered the chef about, and occasionally Natasha had the poor woman comply with his bizarre requests.

Loki held his hand out for the folder. "Let me see that."

He had to get up to pluck the folder from her hand, fingers brushing hers. He seemed to be a bit disconcerted from the contact. She was in casual dress, nothing more than a loose shirt and jeans, leather jacket open and keys jangling in one pocket. They were a possible weapon if he could get them, but they both knew that she would break him simply for trying.

His lips moved as he read the pages. Natasha sat perfectly still, tracking his movements. She watched as he jerked in surprise at the photographs taken of the crime scene, the Norse runes and sigils burned into the poor victim's chest. "This is different than before," he said, looking up. "Anthropomancy. Rather rarer than haruspicy, and an uncommon skill."

"He looks like you."

The victim had long, soft hair stained dark with dried blood, eyes plucked from his face. Much of the body below the rib cage was missing, spread around the crime scene.

"Yes," he admitted finally.

"What was the purpose of this?" Natasha asked, moving to sit beside him. "There aren't many who know you're here. Is this a threat to your safety?"

His laugh was bitter, and he turned away from her. "Little spider, I am safe here, more so than any other realm. I have made enemies in many places, and many would jump at the chance to rend me limb from limb. It is no accident that I am hidden here." He turned when she placed her hand on his thigh. "Your friend the hawk would enjoy that, I think. He could lead them to me, let them tear me apart, cut the flesh from my bones and drink from my skull, would he not?"

It was a bit macabre for Clint, perhaps, but there was truth there. Natasha knew for a fact that he had several detonation arrows labeled 'Loki' that he was itching to use. All she had to do was withdraw her protection, and he would descend on this cell to wreak vengeance. Not even Fury himself could stop Clint then.

"Which of your enemies is a haruspex?"

He couldn't hide his smile. "Have you been _studying?_ How delightful." Loki lifted one hand, and soon a translucent sphere hovered over his palm. "This is the extent of a spell that the geas will let me cast. Brighter light could blind your fragile body, I suppose." He gave her a wolfish grin, teeth bared and eyes bright; this was the smile of the Loki on the helicarrier, triumphant with knowledge he was sure no one else possessed. "Would you learn actual magic, then? Could you warp reality to your will?"

Natasha gave him a level look. "I already do."

Loki laughed, a hollow and derisive sound. "In a crude sort of way," he murmured, sphere dissipating into the ether.

Natasha leaned in, pressing into contact with his body. "Does the haruspex want you dead?"

"No," Loki murmured, letting his hand fall back to his lap. "There is sympathetic magic at work, obviously. But it isn't to find me and destroy me. The haruspex is likely searching for Asgard, for a way to travel Realms without the Bifrost." Something in her expression made him pause and stare at her. "Your people have a way, don't they? That mortal girl's bridge, perhaps?"

"I need to start narrowing down who might be the haruspex."

Brushing aside her concern, Loki shook his head. "My- Well, Odin has his guards. Asgard will be protected. None could get past Heimdall's watchful eye."

Natasha watched him suddenly jerk and hiss, runes coming to angry life across his lips and throat. Loki spasmed and twitched, seizing, and she had to bodily hold him down to keep him from thrashing hard enough to slam his head into the wall. The seizure lasted for about two minutes before he collapsed.

"Did you lie?" she asked when he stilled and was able to focus on her again.

Loki appeared ready to melt into the bed beneath her. "An evasion," he said finally. She could hear the undercurrent of anger in his voice and knew that he hadn't thought the geas would activate. "There are guards. There are eyes across the usual ways and paths."

"But there are other paths."

"There are other paths," he echoed weakly. He reached up and tugged on Natasha's bright red hair. She didn't move, carefully watching his every move. Loki bared his teeth in a grimace of a smile, the stitch marks and rune carvings still livid, angry red against his pale skin. "Few know them, and they are dangerous. Some of the ways would force you to walk between worlds, and those are not paths for mortals."

"Who would know of these paths?"

His lips were still an angry red, and there was amusement in his eyes. "Would you hunt them down, little spider? Would you spin a web to trap those who would dare walk them? Information carries its price," he said, mimicking her words. "Would you leave me here alone, starving for company and drowning in this false, artificial light? I am at your mercy here. Do you enjoy that? Do you like having me brought so low?"

"You are subject to the consequences of your choices."

"So pragmatic of you," he murmured, drawing his fingers along the curve of her cheek.

"I'm Russian. There is no need to weep, just work to change the circumstances." Natasha paused. "I would assume you'd have worked at developing the magic skill. It didn't simply come to you one day."

"I was an apprentice of sorts," Loki told her. "I had to learn to walk the ways, the paths and runes not written in scrolls or texts." He ran a thumb along the edge of her bottom lip. "My teachers were not always Asgardian."

"Which one of them would want to destroy Asgard?"

Loki's smile was almost manic. "Too many."

Natasha shifted so that her body dragged along his. He let out a groan, eyes closing to bask in the sensation. "Give me a starting place."

"You work so hard to find names you cannot track."

"There are ways, aren't there?" she asked, lips hovering just above his. Loki lunged up to kiss her mouth hungrily, hissing at the pain in his scarred lips. "You can choose to help me."

"I want the sun, then," he murmured against her mouth, clutching a fistful of her hair. It was a tight grip, nothing terribly painful. His other hand was at her shoulder, clutching her close, kneading at her flesh. "I can't spell myself a sun."

She took note of that, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'll see what I can do. What spell was the haruspex trying to cast?"

"Transportation," he growled into her jaw, moving down to kiss her neck. "A rather complicated one, but it still failed. I could tell by the burn marks, the pattern of blood spatters."

"Are there other spells he was trying to cast?" she asked, holding him still.

"There are a number I could teach you, if you have interest, but the haruspex was only interested in getting to Asgard." It was short work to divest her of the jacket and undo her jeans. Natasha didn't move any further, so he started tracing symbols into the valley between her breasts. She pulled off her shirt and unclipped her bra, and Loki traced the symbols with his tongue. _"Hugrunar,"_ he began, voice hoarse with need. "Thought runes. To make one clever." He traced others onto the side of her breast, ending with a sweep across a nipple. He looked up at her through his lashes. _"Limrunar,"_ he rasped before sucking on the nipple. "Healing runes."

Natasha refused to be diverted from the task at hand. "The transportation spell. Who would know such a thing?" she asked, pulling off his shirt.

He gave her names she didn't recognize, but didn't have to. Thor and his family could track down the potential threat to their realm, perhaps find the hidden portals into Asgard that Loki knew. She certainly wasn't heading to Asgard herself.

Loki sucked a breast as she stripped the rest of her clothing and sank down over him. He let out a groan and tilted his hips up to meet hers. She moved hard and fast, her hands tight on his shoulders for balance. He rubbed at her flesh as he thrust into her, nipping at her skin when he could. It was fast and over far too soon for her liking, but then Loki slid out of her and shimmied out from under her. Natasha lifted up to let him pass, turning her head to see what he intended to do. Loki smiled slightly as he knelt behind her, and she remained on all fours. His lips fell to the skin over her shoulder blade, tracing one of her faint scars. It was the _limrunar,_ if she recognized the proper shape of it, and as he finished it a flash of heat rolled through her skin and jolted her bones. He entered her from behind, hands sliding across her fair skin.

"If you cross the paths between worlds, I would spell you safe to return." His fingers sketched patterns across her skin. "I could heal you. I _can_ heal you, take these marks from your skin, leave you whole and unmarked..."

"Touching," she gasped out, pressing her forehead to the bed. "You would miss me, then?"

Loki's hands were tight on her hips, and it felt like he was tracing more runes onto her skin. "There are creatures in the dark, shadows made flesh, horrid nightmares waiting to devour you whole. I would not have them pluck the legs off of a defenseless spider."

"I'm hardly defenseless," she gasped out, pulling at the sheets. Natasha was aware that she may have seemed that way in this position, but she would still be able to defend herself if she had to.

"You have no magic, no sense of the occult, no way to perceive the dangers inherent in such ways to travel. It is dimensional travel, moving between worlds and knowing that echoes of fractured time could tear you apart."

Natasha tightened around him and came, panting and pressing her face to his sheets. She was surrounded by the subtle scent of him, something faintly spicy that she was starting to associate with magic and spells.

Loki curled up around Natasha afterward, almost cuddling. He stroked her stomach idly, seeming to enjoy the contact, and she rather liked the softness of his hair and lips. That was a fair enough trade.

"Don't go," he murmured as she dressed. When she turned to look at him, he gestured toward the scattered photographs on the floor. "You wouldn't survive it. You _couldn't._ I almost didn't," he admitted finally, voice soft.

She pressed her fingers to his lips, the scars pale again. "I'm no magician," she told him, her voice just as soft. Even as someone unskilled in magic, Natasha was sure that the flashes of heat on her skin were healing spells. "I don't do extradimensional travel. There's enough work for me here. I don't have time for that."

Loki smiled and allowed himself to sprawl across the bed, limbs loose and unguarded. Perhaps he'd come to trust her. "Pragmatic to the last."

"Someone has to be."

Checking in the mirror later, Natasha couldn't find any of her scars.


	2. Shifting Roles

4.

With the repeated successes based on Loki's intel, he was allowed to move from his bare cell to a room more like a college dorm two months later. He now had a quality bed, a separate bathroom with shower, a table with two chairs, and a view of Central Park. It was spectacular during sunrise, light reflecting over the lake and making the park look lush and green. He still had plain clothing, more like a dull gray sweat-suit than the bespoke leather armor he'd worn before. His hair was still long and wavy, even though he had access to hair products if he wanted them. 

"Do you find me appealing?" Loki asked with a pleased grin when Natasha visited. "Apparently my station and esteem has changed."

"It has," she agreed. She took in the appearance of the room. "No attempts to decorate?"

"Nothing to personalize with," he returned.

She handed him an accordion folder full of materials. "This isn't for personalization, either."

"I'm allowed staples and paper clips, I see," he remarked sardonically, taking out some of the contents to peruse.

"As you noticed, you've moved up in the world."

They sat at his table and went over the case file and records of SHIELD's various attempts to unravel the source of the odd deaths of two informants in one of their safe houses. Loki looked at her intently. "This will be difficult to make judgments about, little spider. If your organization had a practitioner, perhaps, but not like this. There is not enough here regarding possible spell conditions. I would have to see the locale for myself."

"Even if this occurred a year ago?"

"Violent deaths will leave imprints behind." He risked a touch along her arm. "If I could visit the house where they were sacrificed, I can try to examine it for echoes of the original spell."

Blue eyes met green. "You're certain it was a sacrifice and not just murder?"

"This is... elaborate and far from prying eyes. The photographs don't show all of the marks on the bodies or the pattern of blood, but the parts I can see look rather like runes. Murder of any informant would be to send a message to a particular organization. My doppelganger was killed for a particular reason, if you recall. This was not done for those reasons."

"You're to remain here," Natasha reminded him. "What can you tell from this file?"

"I told you. I need to see what is there myself. It's only been a year, so echoes will remain. Should you need to hide my identity from the populace, we could entertain a ruse. It's a home, correct? Perhaps we could be thinking of making a purchase."

"It's been empty since the murders," Natasha said, thinking aloud. "I believe it's still listed as a SHIELD safe house. There likely isn't any need for a ruse. You would be yourself." 

"Who am I, then?" he asked quietly, his face an expressionless mask.

"You are Loki; Thor's brother, Trickster god, banished Prince of Asgard. You're under geas and working with SHIELD until further notice."

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Should there be more?"

Loki seemed troubled by that, which Natasha filed away for later. "From our... association," he began delicately, "there could be offspring."

"I can't have children," she replied, voice a bit sharper than she meant it to be. "No uterus," she clarified at his blank look.

"I could fix that, if you wish," Loki offered, eyebrows raised. "Much like the scarring, which you must have noticed by now." He was trying to be helpful, a change from the usual prickly exchanges they shared. "Though it may hurt, it would heal any damage, so the geas wouldn't affect any spell I used."

_"No."_

Her tone was harsh, and it was clear that he didn't understand why. As far as Natasha was concerned, her entire body was a weapon, honed as any blade. The Red Room had surgically taken away any such vulnerability before she had ever cared about choosing to have a child, and Natasha had made peace with that years ago. Even a casual mention of reversing her entire reality seemed cruel.

"I did not mean to offend," Loki said stiffly, edging slightly away from her.

"You didn't," Natasha told him in a bland tone. She wondered if he actually meant that, and decided that he must. Any barbs he threw her way were intentional, designed to draw out a response that would allow him to learn more about her and the plans that Fury might have for him. Over time he stopped baiting her, and instead wanted to please her. He was attached to her by now, as planned, though she didn't feel victorious with that knowledge. If anything, she felt hollow, as if she had broken him more than she wanted to.

Shaking off the feeling that something had gone wrong, Natasha gave him a brisk nod. "Shall we continue?"

Loki twitched, clearly startled by her straightforward manner, and nodded in return.

It took two weeks to get the proper authorizations in place for Loki to exit the heavily guarded compound in midtown Manhattan to head to Connecticut with Natasha. The safe house was a cozy cottage, perfect as a starter home for an affluent couple. A heavily armed strike team followed them and fell into position around the house, hidden from the street by a line of trees.

Loki touched the floors and walls, breathed in deeply and walked back and forth as if he was retracing someone's path. In the bedroom where the former occupants had been killed, he paused and looked back at Natasha. "There isn't enough of a connection between our time and theirs, not enough in common. That we've had physical relations helps, but it's not enough to try to find the practitioner's signature."

"What does sex have to do with it?"

"They were lovers. I feel it here strongest," he said, gesturing around the empty bedroom with a sweeping motion of his arm. "I know there was pain as well, but I can't sense more than that."

"So the trip was a lie."

Offended by that, he shook his head sharply. "No. I didn't lie to you. The geas didn't activate, remember?" Loki approached her slowly. "I cannot give you more information unless I try something... unorthodox." Natasha was fascinated by the nervous way he licked his lips and the slight stoop to his shoulders, as if he dreaded her response to what he was about to say. "Magic was not trusted much in Asgard until it was something useful, and even royal practitioners of the art considered erotomancy little better than perversion."

"But you think it will help," she said, voice neutral. She didn't know the particulars about Asgardian culture, but had read several Norse Eddas since getting involved with Loki. The ancient Norse had taken pride in physical prowess and acts of war and valor. Magic had been considered a woman's art, a low form of trickery that should be mocked.

"I don't have the power to do a reenactment spell on my own," he said. Ah, that explained some of the hesitancy. "The geas limits the extent of my power. Otherwise, I wouldn't need to generate more of it in this manner."

"What does this reenactment spell entail?" Natasha asked, no inflection in her tone. She wasn't squeamish about magic the way Asgardians must have been. 

Loki looked surprised, which gave Natasha a sense of satisfaction. He was a Trickster, yet she could keep him off balance. It was good to know.

Loki outlined the extent of the spell's workings with complex runes outlined on the floor in table salt. Stripped to the skin, their clothes were neatly folded and outside of the salt circle. Natasha knelt on the laminate flooring so that Loki could paint runes on her skin with her lipstick. He did as best as he could on his own body, but needed her help to draw them onto his back.

"Ready," she murmured, capping the tube and tossing it over the boundary of the circle. She knelt down again and looked up at his gangling form. He seemed nervous, and she wondered if it was for the ritual, or what they would likely see with the reenactment spell he was about to cast.

He closed his eyes as she took him into her mouth, taking care not to smear the runes on his lower abdomen or her forehead. His breath turned harsh and ragged, and he kept his hands fisted at his sides to keep from pulling on her hair or directing her movements. Natasha sat back on her heels after swallowing. Even as a nonpractitioner of magic, she could feel _something_ happening around her, like a subtle shift in the air. It was charged, as if there was static electricity around them.

The runes on their bodies had to be smudged in a deliberate pattern now, and Natasha followed Loki's directions precisely. She felt as though the static electricity was somehow beneath her skin as Loki touched her. He was murmuring something, a steady rhythm of syllables in a language she didn't know. His focus was on each deliberate smudge of lipstick, and then he looked up at her as he knelt at her feet. With the final syllable, the static beneath her skin was almost unbearable. At the same time, she could feel an almost desperate desire filling her. "Time to complete the ritual," he said softly, rising to his feet.

Backing up toward the wall, Natasha watched Loki approach. He entered her with a gentleness she hadn't expected. She locked her arms and legs around him and kept her mouth sealed to his. When he moved hard and fast, that desperate and fiery static building up inside of her chest. If Loki's tongue wasn't in her mouth, she might have screamed. Instead, she raked her nails down his back and shoulder and tightened around him. As he spilled into her, the knot of tension within her released as well. It felt almost like an orgasm, and her muffled shout seemed to echo in her ears.

Around them were ghostly figures and furniture. Loki had a drawn expression as he half turned, still clutching Natasha tight. They watched the couple dance to unheard music, laughing all the while when her rounded belly kept getting in the way. Whatever their cover stories had been, the two had genuine feeling for each other and seemed happy to be in hiding together. A third person carrying an elaborate starknife burst into the room, and the three began to struggle. The assailant came into sharper relief as the figures moved into the center of the salt circle, his features resolving into someone Natasha recognized.

There was a fine tremor in Loki's arms as they watched the ritual murders, and he closed his eyes as the fetus was cut from the woman's body. Natasha knew there were the old Norse myths about liaisons and children, though this Loki didn't have any. In the stories, he cared for his children. He was capricious, but not monstrous. And this Loki was adopted. He would cling to whomever he considered family, would search for ties of belonging, a means to explain who he was to himself. Slaughtering a child in this manner would trouble him, especially since it so very nearly had been done to him.

Loki smudged the circle while the assailant did his bloody work. He couldn't meet Natasha's eyes for a long time, and she slid her hand along his spine in silent support. There was no condemnation in her eyes; Loki had never used his magic with such deliberate cruelty as this, even when he fought on behalf of the Chitauri.

"There's power in that amulet," Loki said, his voice raspy. "Three deaths, not just two, and one with almost limitless possibility... The markings looked as though he was working under specific conditions, particular lives. That amulet can likely hold another dozen lives. You have no idea the power it can hold. It's no Tesseract or Cask of Ancient Winters, but for this realm, that kind of power is monstrous."

"We'll stop him."

"You know who he is." At Natasha's sharp nod, he gave her a feral grin, teeth bared and green eyes wild. "Good. Destroy him and the amulet."

On that point, they were in total agreement.

 

5.

Natasha had tangled with the Ten Rings many times before, so she was a known entity to them. They knew her face and style, so that even with black hair dye, mocked up IDs and a new accent, she could be singled out. Fury also refused to take her off Loki babysitting duty, even if all he did was read up on European and American history in his skyrise cell. He didn't particularly care for most popular literature, but history and art theory seemed to appeal to him. Other than trips to the mess hall, gym and New York Public Library, he was a model prisoner.

Fury attributed it to Natasha's regular visits to check on his welfare. "He's biding his time, but he knows you'll be back. If he's plotting something, he wants you to catch him. You can't do that from Mongolia."

She knew that, and it ordinarily wouldn't bother her. She liked to complete missions to her satisfaction, and she hadn't puzzled out Loki well enough yet. The problem was, Clint was being sent on the mission without the amount of backup she thought was appropriate.

Unamused by Fury's disregard for her concerns, Natasha left his office and made a beeline for where Clint was practicing on the range. He didn't look up as she entered, letting his arrow fly. "Tash."

"Fury's sending you practically alone," she said, frustration evident in her tone.

"Do you really want to leave your babysitting?" he asked, plucking another arrow from his quiver. He didn't look at her, keeping his gaze on the target.

"Don't do this," she said sternly, walking right up to him. The arrow aimed at the hollow of her throat; she stared at him until he released the tension on his bow and pointed the arrow to the floor. "Loki's a job, and you know it."

"That's how it starts, isn't it?" Clint asked, voice clipped with jealousy. "Just a job, but somewhere along the line, things blur. The target isn't just a source of information, but a person you care about. You understand what will happen next. You want to spare their feelings. You don't want them to hurt. You want to bring them into the fold, make them an agent..."

Natasha stepped forward and slid her hand along Clint's arm. Perhaps she had underestimated how much this would have affected him, but he wasn't very far off the mark with his assessment of things. "Would it be terrible? Working with him? You know the things I've done, and it never seemed to matter to you."

Clint's gaze snapped to hers. "You weren't the one pulling the strings. I got you out of that."

"I let you think you did." Natasha didn't want to continue this conversation, and let her hand rest on his chest now. She could feel his heart thudding erratically. "You matter to me above all else," she murmured. The script was changing; she could feel his surprise in the stutter of his heartbeat. "I'll walk away if you ask me to. I'll let it all go, I won't stop you if you need to put that through his eye," she murmured, nodding toward the arrow he still held nocked. "But you and I both know it won't change what happened, it won't scrub the knowledge that you've been unmade. Only remaking yourself can do that. Only grounding yourself will keep you whole."

"You can't come with me. They'll mark you a mile away, and the op will be ruined." He smiled his usual crooked smile, letting her know that her unspoken words were just as important as her spoken ones were. "You're a great blonde and brunette, but I like you as a redhead best. It suits you."

Natasha smiled fondly at him. "I'll follow your rules until they no longer suit me."

She had said the same thing when he told her about SHIELD years ago. "Then I'd better make sure that they still suit you."

"There are protection spells," she began, lifting an eyebrow in query.

"I'm the guy with range. I won't need them." Just to prove his point, he lifted the bow and shot off the arrow without looking at the target three lanes away from them. He pierced the bullseye, of course; she didn't need to check.

Natasha pulled him down for a farewell kiss. "For when you return to me."

Upstairs a few hours later, Natasha's disquiet and distraction was easy visible. Loki didn't remark on it, merely followed her lead by looking at the latest case where his magical expertise could be helpful. Though it wasn't strictly necessary, Loki requested another visit to the site. Natasha didn't think she would get authorization right away, but it came through immediately. Likely because of her displeasure with how the Ten Rings situation was being handled, and Fury wanted her occupied. That was more than fine with her; she liked diving into an extended job, being someone else, putting her skills to work. More than anything else, she wanted to be useful. She wanted a purpose and a way to bring balance back into her life. She had lived for so long among the dead that sometimes in her more romantic moments, she wondered if she was even capable of human emotion.

She arrived in the airport at Toledo, vaguely disgusted with coach seating. Loki didn't seem to have a much better opinion of air travel, but at least kept his thoughts to himself. Toledo hadn't fared well with the economic downturn, and there were parts of the city that appeared rundown or deserted. Most cities had an area like that, with peeling paint, broken windows, graffiti and the slouching youths with baggy clothing, hidden weapons and shifty eyes looking to score another fix. It would be easy for a practitioner to hide there. It was also easy to find people willing to sacrifice themselves for the right amount of money. That was true no matter the era, the city, or country. Some things never changed, and realizing that made Natasha feel rather maudlin.

Loki was dressed casually as she was, but still carried himself as if he was wearing braided leather and gold armor. Natasha could almost see the heavy horned helm on his head, the smirking twist of lips that told onlookers he was absolutely certain he was better than they were, and was willing to prove it. Her technique was different. She tended to blend into the shadows and strike unseen if she had to, retreating until she found a point of strength to attack again. It was the difference between military command and spy tactics.

Natasha moved through the streets in a haphazard manner, getting a feel for the area and the patterns in the graffiti. If Loki thought she was insane or wasting time, he kept those thoughts to himself. It didn't take long for her to notice the markings that indicated territorial boundaries, and one in particular seemed to have the echo of runic designs. She eyed Loki, who nodded subtly; she assumed he was following her lead. It was odd to have him watch her six as she went into the broken down warehouse full of drug addicts trawling for their next fix. Maybe she was itching for a fight, but these idiots weren't a good enough adversary. They went down easily, Loki watching her move with a slight smirk across his lips.

Her booted foot rested heavily on one punk's chest. She held a photo of the runic patterns she was supposed to be tracking down with Loki's help. They weren't the same as the spell from the safe house in Connecticut, but apparently someone in Research and Archives had been busy since then, pulling out all the cases where similar spell patterns had been found. The punk was high on crack, eyes wide and fingers plucking at the top of her boot as if he could pick insects off of it. "You mean you're not really one of Gerald's girls? Fuck, I thought you were—"

"So tell me where to find this Gerald, hm?" Natasha leaned in, pressing down on her boot.

The punk sputtered and coughed, then coughed up the address of a ramshackle ranch house with a scraggly excuse of a lawn just outside Toledo city limits. It was a sorry excuse of a neighborhood, the kind of place where no one wanted to get involved in their neighbors' lives.

Loki stopped Natasha before she simply stormed into the house. She was still itching for a fight, the need to break something crawling beneath her skin. His touch felt electric, as if it was siphoning off some of the agitation. "The people there might not be much more alert than the men in that warehouse. They're expecting loose women here, aren't they?"

"So?" She wanted to hit something, and she wouldn't be terribly upset if Loki got in the way. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. She _shouldn't_ be upset by it.

He slid his hand along the back of her neck. "If this is set up similarly, you won't find him right away. You're angry, and you've been carrying around the sigils for war against your heart." His other hand slipped beneath the edge of her jacket to remove the photos from the inside pocket. "It isn't good for you, little spider."

She wanted to snarl at him, but she had enough control over her own emotions that she simply nodded at him. "Then what would you suggest? There's no point in creating a cover story, and anything official sounding would only get them to scatter like cockroaches."

The photos turned to ash in Loki's palm. He blew away the remnants, then placed his fingers over her lips. "The fool in the warehouse thought you were one of his girls. If we alter your appearance a bit, give you the scent of one of them..."

Natasha sighed, conceding the point. Usually she was better than this, but she wasn't thinking clearly. Apparently the high resolution photos of these particular runes still carried power, twisting emotions toward hate and anger. Loki confirmed that when she asked in clipped tones, concern on his features. She acquiesced to his hasty plan without thinking, knowing that punching him in the mouth would be counterproductive. There should have been a better way to burn off the adrenaline and rage, but all she wanted to do was fight.

The sex was hard and fast behind a neighbor's garage, almost painful for lack of preparation. Loki murmured something against her skin, his fingers digging tightly into her thighs where he held her up. Her usual cool seemed to slide into her, the agitation leaching out with every breath.

She let go of his shoulders, inhaling the scent of him with her eyes closed. Loki's hair tickled her face a little, and he pressed his lips to her temple. "Time to do your work, little spider."

Sure enough, Natasha was mistaken for one of Gerard's whores, and Loki was assumed to be one of the new enforcers that Gerard had talked about hiring. The problem was, once they were able to get close enough to Gerard in the basement, it was clear that he had no idea what the runes were. The stairs to the basement were blocked with a simple spell, and Loki conjured an image of the agitating spell in question.

"Look, it's like something Elspeth does. That freaky Wicca shit or something, I don't know." Gerard held up his hands in front of him in supplication, sweat dripping down his forehead. "I just put 'em where she says they should go, she's the fuckin' witch lady."

From there, they were back to Toledo, this time in a nicer part of town. The apartment building was kept up, the yard was maintained, and Natasha was able to slip past the security measures easily. Elspeth was home, incising runes into the back of a drugged young man who looked barely old enough to drink legally. She held an athame in hand and drew her lips back in a snarl as Natasha and Loki burst through her door, her feathery blonde hair whipping around her head as if a wind was blowing. Elspeth had vivid green eyes, rather like Loki's, and she spoke a series of words that sounded very similar to the kind of spells that Loki used.

He darted across the room faster than Natasha thought possible and caught Elspeth by her neck, lifting her off her feet. Loki's face contorted in fury, and to Natasha's surprise, the scars on his lips, long healed, started to glow an angry red. Runes lit up along his arms and chest, giving the appearance of a fire beneath his clothes.

It took Natasha a moment to realize that the geas was activating. He was deliberately fighting it, intending to hurt Elspeth. She couldn't have him seizing or killing himself on her account. Her touch on his arm stilled him, keeping him from snapping Elspeth's neck.

Natasha pulled the athame from Elspeth's nerveless fingers and sliced through the tendons in her wrist with a practiced motion. She met Loki's fevered eyes. "I've got this. Look after the boy." She nearly said _body,_ but the boy was still breathing.

Loki nodded sharply and let Elspeth tumble from his hands; the instant he lost contact with her, the runes stopped glowing. He knelt beside the body and pressed his long fingers against the bloody incisions in the boy's back. They looked similar to the ones the Ten Rings' assassin had used in Connecticut, but not quite. Loki began to sketch the healing spell runes over the injuries, sitting back on his haunches to watch the incisions seal.

As he did that, Natasha literally sat on Elspeth's hands and held the tip of the athame against the woman's cheek. "Let's chat, you and I. If I like what you have to say, you may actually live."

It was a long and messy interrogation, and Loki watched Natasha work in fascination. She didn't even mind it the way she had with Clint when they first worked together. Loki was quiet and nonjudgmental, as if he understood exactly why she worked the way she did and approved.

If anything, Natasha found that more disturbing than knowing he was willing to risk his life for hers.

 

+1

Natasha burst into Loki's room, tension etched into every limb. She was upset, and there hadn't been anywhere else in the building where she felt comfortable. Loki put aside the text he was reading and looked at her in concern, gathering her up into his arms. "Natasha," he whispered in a soothing manner.

"He's in the infirmary," she said, not even sure where to begin. "The entire op was a fuckup, I told them they needed more backup. I should have been there, I knew how they operated. The junior agents were _slaughtered..."_

Loki cupped her face in his hands and lowered himself down so that they were on eye level. "What happened?"

"They sent Clint after the Ten Rings. He was in the heart of their territory without enough backup, and they discharged the amulet they were creating."

Sucking in a breath, Loki shook his head. "That must have been the disruption I sensed. An artifact of that magnitude..."

She turned and collapsed down onto his bed with an ungainly plop. She was out of sorts, discombobulated and unsure of herself for the first time in years. She was scraped raw, and this was such an alien feeling to her. It was tempting to think _Everything I touch dies, everything around me is dead now, I am death personified,_ but that was too melodramatic, even for her. It wouldn't change a thing, and it would only make her feel worse.

His touch was calming as he knelt in front of her, palms flat on her thighs. "He lives, doesn't he?" Loki asked, voice low and painfully gentle.

"Barely." Natasha wanted to scream, break something. The dark, empty place inside her was shattering, and she couldn't even understand why. "He came back to me."

Loki shifted so that he could touch the spot on her shoulder where one of her scars used to be. "I can heal him, unravel whatever magicks might be woven as a result of the amulet."

Natasha let out a pained breath she didn't even realize she had been holding. "But..."

"He is precious to you," Loki murmured, sliding his fingers across her jaw. "I will do this," he continued, leaning into her, crowding out her senses and the memory of Clint's touch. "Just take me to his side, and he will be yours again."

Eyes sliding shut, Natasha pressed her mouth against his. She slid her hands along his arms until she reached his shoulders, then up along the nape of his neck. Loki shivered a little under her touch, the same skin hunger present even though she visited him frequently enough now. She was still his primary contact with the outside world, but Natasha had become more than that to him.

Clint was precious to Natasha, and Natasha was precious to Loki.

Natasha opened her mouth against his, threading her fingers through his soft hair. "We should go," she murmured.

"A moment, please," Loki pleaded as he clutched her close, his touch growing insistent with need. She pushed at his clothes impatiently, not breaking the consuming kiss. Her tongue slid into his mouth as if she could draw his breath into her lungs, and he helped her undress. Their kiss only broke to remove shirts, and Loki snapped the hooks to her bra in his impatience to touch her. When she needed to gasp for breath, Loki mouthed her jaw and the side of her neck, then moved down to suckle a breast.

It was easy to fall under this spell, to let him work at her flesh with lips and tongue and fingers, to sink into sensation and not think about the fact that Clint Barton was covered with burns and was in the infirmary. She pulled at Loki's hair, urging him to work her harder. But he insisted on this slow pace, as if enchanted and pleased by her unguarded response to him. He tasted her, worked at her body from the inside out, only entering her when she was loose limbed with release. He moved slowly, sensuously, eyes fixed on her flushed face and parted lips.

He cradled her in his arms afterward, their breaths fractured and harsh. She ran her hands along his skin in a gentle caress, and he nearly arched into it like a cat. It was difficult to stay silent, not to press for his motivations.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, his hands sliding down the length of her spine before coming to rest on her rear.

"Because..." Natasha paused, her voice small and vulnerable. "There's no one else that would have understood."

"Perhaps we're all caught in this web you spun, little spider," Loki murmured, shifting to rest his weight on an elbow to look at her steadily. "There were more consequences than we ever thought possible."

"So what will you do next?" she asked, her voice a little raspy with repressed emotion.

He moved to caress a breast, and dipped his head down to lick at her peaked nipple. Natasha grasped the back of his skull as she sucked in a breath, shivering. "Loki," she said, her voice more like a whimper. As he sucked, he slid a hand down her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. She gripped his bicep tight, but didn't yank his hand away. He was tracing patterns over her skin with his tongue, and she almost wondered if he wanted to build up more power in order to heal Clint.

Natasha spread her legs wide for him, his fingers sliding into her slick opening readily. He sucked and worked at her with his fingers, making her whimper and whine. Instead of staying quiet, she let go completely; something inside her no longer cared about being mysterious around him, of keeping her careful control, of appearing unfeeling and dead. Loki shifted and covered her body, filling her. He worked his hips like a piston, and Natasha tilted her hips up to meet his. She freely offered herself up to him, nearly sobbing when a fierce orgasm ripped through her.

A few more strokes and Loki spilled into her again. He cradled her against his chest as she sobbed, clutching at his shoulders. "We can't all be ghosts, little spider," he murmured, stroking her back in a soothing manner. "We have to choose what's most important to us, when it's worth pushing for more."

Natasha leaned into his touch. It was almost like the way she had stroked him the first time she had slept with him, waiting until he was calm. He had the same patience with her now, holding her until the trembling stopped.

"What do you want to push for? To remove the geas?"

He didn't let her rise from his embrace, sharply shaking his head. "Let them think they have a leash to pull. Let them think they can hold me."

"You've been practicing," she commented softly, remembering how he didn't immediately seize when trying to break Elspeth's neck. He had come a long way from the time an evasive lie had nearly broken him.

"I will always push against boundaries. I will always want more. Don't you know this?" he asked, his nails running down her spine. At her nod, he smiled, teeth looking sharp and dangerous, like weapons. "I let them think the chain they think they have exists, so they won't search for another." His hands clutched at her possessively, telling her exactly what he meant. "You understand this."

"That's why you're willing to help me with Clint?" she asked, needing the confirmation.

He smiled that shark's grin at her. "You said you owed him a debt when we first met. But it's much more than that for both of you. This would be that same kind of debt, my little spider. Now some part of you will be mine."

His smile was still vicious, but the words were soft. Belatedly, Natasha remembered the cameras. She would have to find the data feed and manipulate it, strike this conversation from the record. It was intolerable to have any nameless agent at SHIELD aware of her vulnerabilities or alert to the possibility of this weakness Loki had for her. She didn't want him falling apart at her behest or because of her decisions.

Loki looked at her approvingly as the thoughts seemed to slot into place. "They would consume the world if they could, but under the guise of legality." He gave a low, bitter chuckle. "If I had come claiming friendship, they would have leapt at the chance, and I would not be at their tender mercies. I'm sure it was the same for you."

The choice had been to join or die; she was too dangerous to be left alive and on her own. "Something like that," Natasha hedged.

"And it was likely the same for your hawk," he murmured, brushing his fingers across her cheek and to the corner of her mouth. "Your leader collected loose ends and bent them to his will. That won't last forever, and then chaos will come."

"I've walked amongst the dead for a very long time," Natasha told him.

"Regimes come and go," Loki said, echoing what she had told him when they first met on the helicarrier. He slid his hand down her jaw to the slope of her breast. Her heart beat steadily in her chest, and he nodded his approval. "Let's re-set your hawk's wings, then."

An hour later, Natasha watched him trace complicated runes and sigils over Clint's arms and torso in silvadene, no trace of anxiety in her expression. Steve Rogers had apparently received word of the fiasco in Mongolia and was in the Infirmary; no nurse dared tell him to leave once he got that stubborn tilt to his jaw. Natasha and Clint were his friends, and he wanted to be sure that Loki didn't do something they would all regret. Natasha didn't need to second guess Loki's intentions. Clint was precious to her and she was precious to Loki. In a land of death and subterfuge, alliances were all that mattered.

When Clint's burns healed completely and his eyes opened, Natasha's fingers were laced through Loki's. She kissed him fiercely, not caring that it was in front of Loki and Steve, and neither condemned her for it. Loki didn't let go of her fingers, and Clint didn't even glare at the trickster.

Sometimes, even beautiful things could grow out of a dead land.

The End


End file.
